


Stone Cold (english version)

by TaiChan



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaiChan/pseuds/TaiChan
Summary: Within hours, nothing was the same. Beliefs and dreams shattered. Hopes and wishes destroyed. Instead, her only option was to flee into the unknown. Exhausted and injured, Nola finally stumbles into the arms of the supposed enemy, of all people, and she must decide whether to stick to her escape plan or dare to trust. Moreover, she absolutely must find out who or what Amdiriel was. And why the hell was nothing actually the way it seemed in the end?
Kudos: 3





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Stone Cold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642985) by [TaiChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaiChan/pseuds/TaiChan). 



Hello everybody, 

I am glad that you have found your way here. After a long time of not writing myself and preferring to read, I haven't been able to get this project out of my head for many years.  
In the meantime the idea has matured so much that I dared to write it down again. But not in english at first, as that is not my native language. ^^ This will be a translation of my work after I was asked by some native english speakers, if they could read my work, when I would decide to post it, after I asked some questions in english Facebook groups. So here it is.

A few brave friends had to serve as test readers of the original work and a dear friend was chosen as beta reader. In fact, I've never had one before, but I'm already learning to appreciate the benefits of it. In addition to small nudges, if I'm ever bogged down, she removes the errors that slip through me even at the 10th read and thus hopefully sweetens the reading pleasure. 

For this translation I have to use the help of a translation-program and what little I know about the English language. When you stumble about errors, please let me know, so I can fix it.

Admittedly, I have long wrestled with myself whether I really dare to publish a FF in the Tolkien fandom, because I have enormous respect for the master himself and would like to avoid as much as possible that he rotates too much in the grave. So I try to stick to the canon as much as possible. Nevertheless I take some artistic liberties. Starting with the fact that I will mix film and book verses a little.  
And also in the use of the elvish languages, I will probably have to trick a little here and there, simply because not enough has been handed down to be able to write a flawless and error-free conversation.  
But what would a Middle Earth FF be without at least a bit of elvish, right? So I may add a few Quenya terms here and there into Sindarin or use names that come from Quenya simply because I like their meaning and they sound nice. 

But I will keep it as far as possible with occasionally interspersed Elvish words and few sentences, in order not to disturb the reading flow. Translations will be found at the end of each chapter. Otherwise I will use italics when the Elves speak in their own language. This can be Sindarin as well as the Silvan dialect of the forest elves, which will play a bigger role in my story later on. At least, if it goes as it is planned so far.

If there is someone among you who is more versed in these linguistic things than I am and has suggestions for improvement, I will gladly accept them. In general I am happy about comments. Constructive criticism is very welcome and if you notice any blunders, you are very welcome to report them to me so that I can correct them. 

From time to time I will add a comment at the end of a chapter, if I need to explain some things in more detail. I choose to do this at the end so that the flow of reading is not too disturbed if someone has the pleasure of reading several chapters at a time. From experience, I find notes at the end of chapters are better to skip than if they jump out at you right at the beginning.  
Unfortunately I can't give an exact update rhythm yet, because I'm very busy in my job life and don't want to put myself under pressure with a fixed post schedule. But there are already more chapters ready and just waiting for the correction by my beta reader. So for the time being there will be more to come. :)  
By the way, this will be my first love story. At least in the later course. ;) So you can be curious. I have a lot of plans with our well known favorites from Middle Earth and hope that some of my own characters will grow on you as well. 

Long story short: I wish you a lot of fun with my story.

Kind regards Tai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I almost forgot. A small note: The story will take a little while before it picks up speed and we meet our favorite woodland goblin. So if you're here just for him, you'll have to be patient ;).
> 
> Also, I'll probably have to add more warnings or tags as the story progresses so that no one has to experience an unpleasant surprise. But now have fun with the first chapter, which I will upload right after this. :)


	2. Fire in the Night

**It is the year 2769 Third Age.**

They came without warning. Nothing on this ordinary day had indicated unusual occurrences. They came in the night. As they always did. Nola had often heard of them, but she had never experienced an attack by these beasts herself. Until now. The small village where she lived was surprised while they slept. Just now everything had been peaceful and quiet, then suddenly all hell broke loose. Dogs barked, chickens clucked excitedly in their stalls, horses neighed and kicked the walls of their boxes. Within moments, the peaceful night turned into pure chaos.

Awakened by all the noise, Nola roused herself from sleep and looked around with eyes widened in shock. Only a few moments later, her mother, already half-dressed, appeared in the doorway. "Get dressed, quickly. And take your dagger with you!" Then she already disappeared again, presumably to finish dressing as well. The smell of smoke permeated their hut through the closed shutters. The telltale crackle and pop of fire could be heard, as well as the first cries of their neighbors. Shakily, the young woman jumped out of bed and threw on a worn brown tunic, gray wool pants, and the cloak, also gray, which had been patched several times. Briefly, she froze in fear as she heard chittering laughter and grunting shouts from outside. They were very close. 

"Nola!" her mother called from the living room. "What is taking you so long? We don't have much time!" She tried to shake off the fear and refocus on frantically getting dressed. She quickly slipped into the scuffed brown leather boots that were in desperate need of a new sole, then looked around searchingly for the belt she had carelessly tossed over a chair yesterday. In the prevailing darkness she could hardly see anything but she did not dare to light a candle. Without further ado, she knelt down and felt searchingly across the furrowed floorboards until her fingers finally came across the thin leather. She tied it untidily around her waist, while at the same time hurrying to the small cabinet beside her bed. In the drawer was the dagger she always carried, but had never had to use. Until now.

She quickly tucked it into her belt and hurried into the living room. "Mother?" she whispered softly when she did not immediately spot the one she was looking for. She dared not speak louder despite the swelling noise outside, which was now joined by clear sounds of battle. "Here." came from the back door. Her eyes followed the voice and found her mother standing at the door, which was open a crack, gazing strained outside. The flickering light of flames traced the wooden floor and the smell of smoke grew stronger. Nola hurried to her mother's side, her long auburn hair tied into a messy knot, and tried to catch a glimpse past her to the outside. "What's happening?" she whispered, the fear clear in her voice. Her heart was beating up to her throat. "Hush now, come!" came the reply, without her mother even looking at her. 

In contrast to Nola, who nervously stuffed her tangled auburn hair under the hood of her cloak, she seemed quite calm and focused. Quite the healer who always kept a cool head in emergency situations and knew exactly what to do. In her hand she held something that flashed in the light of the blazing flames outside. A sword, she realized with astonishment. One she had never seen on her mother before. She didn't have time to think much about it either, because Maera gestured her to follow with an imperious hand gesture. Nola complied without further question and hurried after her mother out the door and into the open. The clang of metal meeting metal echoed through the air. Apparently the men of the village had taken up arms and were trying to repel the attack.

But her mother seemed reluctant to join the fray. The somewhat remote location of their hut was to their advantage, because apparently the enemy had not yet advanced to here. They kept to the shadows of the house and hurried towards the trees of the forest bordering the village. A shrill screech made Nola pause in her steps, startled, and look around in panic. But before she could see who had uttered this cruel death cry, for nothing else could have done so, she was grabbed by the arm and dragged along. Now she emitted a frightened and surprised squeak. It was pure luck that her throat was as if constricted, otherwise it would probably have been a full-blown scream of terror.

"Nola!" her mother hissed at her. "Come on now!" With the sure feeling that her heart was about to leap out of her chest at any moment, Nola stumbled after her mother again. "We can't stop," her mother hissed at her. "We have to escape while we have the chance."  
And who, if not her mother knew how things went in such situations. You couldn't tell by looking at her, but she had already lived on Arda for 98 years and had survived quite a few crises. She had often told Nola about her time with the Rangers of the North, and many times it had given the then young girl goose bumps. How glad she had been that her mother, as soon as she had learned of her pregnancy, had decided to settle down. Even though Nola was clearly her mother's daughter on the outside, she had never displayed the sometimes domineering and warlike manner of the older woman. She was more of a gentle disposition and far more fond of the nature around her than of fighting.

The screams behind them grew louder and again and again the cruel laughter of black creatures rang out, their misshapen forms darkly silhouetted against the flaming houses. Again and again, Nola cast fearful glances over her shoulder as she continued to stumble toward the edge of the forest. But suddenly, her mother stopped abruptly and Nola bumped her back rudely. "What...?" The rest of her question stuck in her throat when she saw that one of those monsters had stepped right into her escape route. The yellow eyes sparkled with amusement, the cracked lips twisted into a bizarre grin, exposing a crooked and gap-toothed set of teeth. 

"What have we here?" a strangely distorted voice rang out. "Do you little humans think you can escape us?" While Nola stared at the Orc, for the misshapen creature before them could be nothing else, her eyes widening in shock, Maera acted. Quick as a flash she had raised her sword and tried to shield Nola from the beast. "Get out of here or you'll regret it!" her mother's cool and controlled voice rang out.  
Nola gradually felt herself getting dizzy. She had held her breath in fright, as she only now realized. She stood there paralyzed. It didn't even occur to her to draw her own dagger. Fear had such a tight grip on her that she could not lift a finger. Not even if her life depended on it. And it obviously did. Still, she couldn't help but admire the strength her mother radiated before her. She made no effort to flinch fearfully or to scream for help in panic like some other women of the village. This seemed to impress her opponent as well, if that was even possible with Morgoth's creatures.

"A fighting woman. I like that." the Orc sneered, raising a sharp sword with which he struck at her mother without further ado. "I'll beat that out of you!" he added with a snarling sound that was probably meant to be a laugh. Maera deflected the blow with her own sword. Nola cried out in fright as the blades clashed. She finally broke free of her stiffness and staggered back a few steps. The orc's gaze jerked to her in response. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you..." Mid-sentence, his words were stifled by a gurgling sound. The yellow eyes widened, then his gaze went rigid and he fell to the ground like a wet sack. However, the small skirmish, along with Nola's scream, had attracted more of the dark creatures that were now coming their way. "To the stables! Run!" said Maera. 

And when Nola hesitated, she gave her a shove and now yelled, "Run, Nola! Now!" Nola wanted to object, wanted to stay by her mother's side, but the first creatures of Mordor were already far too close, and so she did as she was told. She ran. Completely headless and as fast as her legs would carry her, she ran toward the small stable, on whose roof the first flames were already licking.  
Panic-stricken, she looked back at her mother, who was fighting valiantly against the orcs. The blood of the Númenorians now clearly showed in the tall woman, who bitterly stood up to her enemies. Had the situation not been so dangerous, Nola might have taken the time to admire how nimbly and gracefully her mother moved among her opponents. How purposefully and lethally she wielded her blade, which by now glistened wetly in the glow of the fires. 

As a member of the Dúnedain people, she was more than capable of defending herself. Unlike Nola, who had never been much interested in martial arts and had only learned a few basics. And that only because her mother had insisted on it. She was not clumsy, she just had no desire to do so. Even though there were only 23 years between her mother and her, Nola had retained her childlike self. While Maera always acted wisely and thoughtfully, impulsiveness and emotions often controlled her daughter's actions. It was not uncommon for the two of them to quarrel, and instead of submitting, Nola often became stubborn and retreated into the forest instead of doing what was asked of her. Something she now bitterly regretted. If she had spent a little less time in the woods listening to nature or reading and instead devoted more time to studying how to use the bow and arrow and the sword, she wouldn't feel like a helpless rabbit in a trap now. 

Rushed, the gaze of her gray-green eyes flitted over the surroundings. Everywhere she made out dark, misshapen shadows, but so far none of them seemed to have taken notice of her. They were much more busy slaughtering the villagers or burning down the houses with torches and flaming arrows. Unintentionally, tears came to her eyes. Even though she had always been more of a loner, she felt sorry for her neighbors. She had often seen people die, and often at a much younger age than she counted, but never had these deaths been caused by murder. Always it had been illness, accidents or simply old age. Something that would catch up with the heirs of Númenor so much later than ordinary people.

Nola had always been bad with death, which is why she was not sad about the rather sporadic contact with the other villagers. After all, she had never felt lonely. The animals and trees of the forest, as well as her mother and the rangers who occasionally came on their walks through the village with their exciting stories, had been company enough for her. 

But no matter how well or poorly she knew her neighbors, she mourned each and every one who met their deaths under ragged swords and bent axes. They were not helpless and they were not unarmed, but they had been caught by surprise and, moreover, they were absolutely outnumbered. Even women and old men resorted to anything remotely resembling a weapon to assist their men and protect their children. In doing so, however, they merely delayed the inevitable.

With difficulty, she shook off the grief and paralyzing thoughts. She had no time to give in to her worries now. She had to act if she did not also want to breathe her last that night.  
With agitated fingers she fiddled with the latch of the stable door. Only on her third attempt did she manage to lift the latch and push the stable door open. Nervous whinnying sounded from inside. She quickly rushed to the boxes to open the doors. She released three of the animals. They were already old and partly too thin to carry a human. They galloped out of the building in a blind panic, trampling one of the orcs on their wild flight, who must have noticed Nola after all. 

Tense, she watched to see if the beast would stir again, but nothing happened. So she hurried to the two remaining, somewhat stronger animals and tried to calm them down. With moderate success. Both animals rolled their eyes and tossed their heads up and down. Being flight animals, everything urged them to get out of this place. A louder crackling sound from above told her that the roof had finally caught fire. So she would not have much time left. Normally, Nola was good with animals. She had been able to do so since she was a little child. She often felt better understood among them than among most people. But now she herself was much too frightened to even begin to radiate something like calm. The sensitive animals sensed this, of course, and didn't even think about calming down.

Without further ado, Nola grabbed both animals by the scruff of the neck and dragged them into the stable aisle, while she continued to speak to them with angelic tongues. She didn't have time to look for ropes or bridles, it would have to go like this. Even though the thought of having to gallop away on bare horseback made her feel sick to her stomach. The horses in the village were meant for work. They pulled carriages, wood or the plow but they were rarely ridden. Thus, Nola was not a particularly good rider. Unlike her mother. So she could only hope not to break her neck when they finally set off.

She had almost reached the exit when someone stepped in her way. Startled, she let go of one of the horses and drew her dagger, but it was only her mother, black blood dripping from her finely curved sword blade. She herself seemed to have gotten only a few scratches, for the stains on her clothes were also mostly pitch black. Her auburn hair, partly streaked with the first gray strands, had partially come loose from the knot that was supposed to tame it and hung tangled in her face. "We..." she began, but the sentence she started was interrupted by a soft gasp as a jolt went through the Dúnadan's body. An astonished expression entered her mother's eyes, then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, she fell forward and, without even attempting to catch herself, hit the ground hard. "Mother!" cried Nola. Forgotten were the horses. She reflexively let go of the other animal as well and ran to her mother lying on the ground. The horses rushed up beside her and finally past her into the open and away, while Nola fell hard to her knees and held out her hands to Maera. "Mother?" she whispered in panic. She shook her shoulders. "Mother, please say something!" A low moan, however, was the only answer she got.

Her eyes searched for the reason of her mother's fall and found it in the form of an arrow stuck between her shoulder blades. "No...", she breathed in horror. Frozen, she looked at the projectile that seemed so out of place here. It was made of fine wood and brightly feathered. It seemed almost delicate and beautiful, so not at all like something an Orc would create. It all seemed so surreal. She laboriously tried to turn the motionless body, whispering imploringly to her mother, but there was no response. When Nola finally managed to turn her onto her side, she stared into aimlessly darting gray eyes. It seemed Maera could not focus her gaze. 

"Mother..." she breathed again. "Please...please say something," she whispered desperately. At last, her mother seemed to recognize her. Her gaze now rested on Nola's tear-stained face. Maera's lips twisted into a weak smile. "Am...Amd...," a cough shook the body lying limply in her daughter's arms. Blood escaped her lips and each breath was now accompanied by a rasping sound. "I don't understand..." Nola dared not speak aloud. Almost as if she was afraid to frighten the dying woman in her arms. The smile on Maera's lips had become a tortured grimace. Still, after a rasping breath, she tried again, "Amdi...riel...Amdiriel...you must..." Coughing again, Maera's gaze lost focus once more and finally they seemed to see nothing at all. "No...Mother no...! Tell me what you mean. Who is that? What do I have to?" 

No answer came. Full of despair, she shook the lifeless body in her arms while fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Mother, no..." she repeated like a mantra. As if her will alone, her begging and pleading could bring her mother back. An irrepressible grief seized her. This could not be. Not the strong, resilient Maera. What on earth was going on here? This had to be a terrible nightmare. Yes, it couldn't be any other way. All she had to do was wish hard enough to wake up, then she would be startled right in her bed and everything would be back to normal. 

Mother and daughter would argue again over breakfast because Nola would rather wander through the forest than practice sword fighting. Or the younger one would think about visiting the market in Thal, which was a few days' journey away, and try to persuade her mother to accompany her. Perhaps Nola would simply listen to one of the many stories her mother had to tell. Maera had often told of her time with the Dúnedain as they mended their worn clothing together or prepared dinner. Of all the adventures she had fought and survived. And all the battles would again be nothing but tales. Things of the past. Infinitely far away and certainly never something she had to experience herself.

But as much as she wished it, she simply did not wake up. The crunch of footsteps outside the stable, made her start up. She had been so blinded by her grief that she had paid no attention at all to her surroundings. Oh how Maera would scold her for that. Surely she would be in for quite a chastisement if she followed her mother right away to the place where she had preceded her. Wherever that was. Still, the thought of seeing her mother there again had something comforting about it. Her tear-veiled gaze tried to penetrate the denser smoke and see who was approaching her. It was a tall figure. A man wrapped in dark clothes with long brown hair, which he wore neatly braided out of his face. In his hand he held a bow. His face was even and flawless, and in the light of the spreading flames it seemed almost radiant. 

This stranger had to be about the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Or he would have been, were it not for the cruel smile on his lips and the icy coldness in his dark eyes. Slowly, he raised a hand and reached into the quiver on his back to pull out one of the arrows protruding from it. It was of the same make as the one that had killed her mother, she realized with horror. Slowly he put it on the string, not taking his eyes off her.  
Nola could do nothing but stare at him. Incredulous, not understanding. Her mother's motionless body slipped from her weakening grip and sank back into the prone position the arrow in her back had forced her into.

Behind him stepped another man. Also darkly dressed and also of immaculate beauty. This one had long black hair that fell smoothly over his shoulders and light eyes. She couldn't quite make out the color, but she could clearly see the expressionlessness in them as his gaze casually brushed over her. As if she wasn't worth looking at more closely. In his hand he held a curved sword from which fresh blood dripped. Blood that was not black, like that of the orcs. It was red like that of the humans. "You...you are..." she began in a hoarse whisper, but a crack that sounded from above interrupted her. A loud crack followed and shortly after she was thrown backwards to the ground. Pain exploded in her left leg as well as in her head. She saw stars dancing in front of her eyes and for a moment she was barely able to form even a clear thought.

Her clouded mind couldn't really place what had just happened. All she could feel was the crushing weight on her leg and the searing heat seeping through her pants into her flesh. The biting pain took her breath away. In addition, she had hit her head hard on the door of a horse box when she fell, and slowly but surely her field of vision was getting smaller and smaller. With difficulty she realized that the roof must have given way to the flames and collapsed. Apparently one of the smoldering beams had hit her and thrown her to the ground. She struggled to regain consciousness for a moment, searching with her eyes for the menacing figures in front of the stable, to whom she was now even more defenseless. The dagger had fallen from her hand and even if she could have reached it, the bow and arrow were far superior. 

The man with the bow, however, had lowered it in the meantime and cast an almost pitying glance at her. He said something to her that she didn't understand, then turned away and gestured for his dark-haired companion to follow him.  
Her confused mind still wondered at the man's melodious voice. How could someone who performed such cruel acts as murder have such a beautiful voice? Her blurry gaze followed the two and the last thing she saw before her senses completely faded was the murderer's left ear. Her eyes widened again in horror. Disbelief and a terrible realization were the last things to fill her mind before everything went black around her. This was not the ear of a human. It was the ear of an elf.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The rising wind tugged gently at her long auburn hair, grabbing individual strands, tossing them up and down and eventually blowing them into their owner's face, where they blocked her view of the book in her hands. Smirking, Nola brushed them back behind her ears and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to at least somewhat tame her wild mane and protect her sensitive ears from the cool wind. She really should have remembered to tie her hair up before she set off into the forest. Now that nature had already successfully taken her out of her fantasy world, she slammed the book shut and closed her almond-shaped gray-green eyes for a moment. She lifted her nose in the wind, which carried the smell of spring. The first messengers, in the form of fresh buds on trees and bushes and small blossoms stretching towards the sun, testified that winter would soon be broken.

But the nights were still cold and the winds fresh. Nevertheless, since the first warmer days, the young daydreamer was regularly drawn back to nature. In particular in the forest, even if she should not be here strictly speaking. Her mother had warned her many times that she should avoid the forest. It was best not to enter it at all, but since Nola turned a deaf ear to that request, her mother had at some point confined herself to admonishing her not to go more than a few steps into it. 'The Elvenking does not appreciate intrusion into his realm,' Maera kept preaching. He could well react indignantly and pronounce severe punishments. But Nola was quite careless about that. After all, she didn't bother the High Lord directly, just because she enjoyed nature and climbed into the trees to read a little. Here she had her peace and was not exposed to the gaze of others.

Although Nola was a relative loner, it was not as if the other villagers overlooked her. In the case of the male population, the opposite was more true. Still, she didn't feel like she particularly belonged. The young woman was clearly too old to hang out with the village-youth, in the eyes of the village elders she was still quite wet behind her ears, and there was not much in between. So she preferred to keep to herself when the day's tasks were done. Here, among the trees, Nola could dream herself into distant worlds, read about them, or think up little adventures and stories of her own. Once, against all her mother's warnings, she had even tried to follow the old forest road a little deeper into the forest, but when a fallen tree prevented the young adventuress from going further and she thus dodged into the undergrowth, she had quickly lost her way hopelessly. Nola had almost not found her way out and had been close to a full-blown panic.

That had been many years ago, and her goal had been to see one of the legendary elves with her own eyes. Nola had heard so many stories about them. About how beautiful and wise they were, how skilled they were in battle and hunting, and how much they lived in harmony with nature. She would have given anything to meet one of them just once. But her mother had quickly made it clear to her that the joy of such a meeting would probably not be found on both sides. As much good as Maera had told her daughter about the elves, she had also warned Nola not to anger the forest elves of Mirkwood, as the great Greenwood was now known.

Since the shadows spread from the south of the forest further and further north, the elves had retreated and the borders were now guarded even more closely. Trespassers were not welcome and there was a good chance that they would end up in the dungeons of the Elvenking if they were caught prowling around. At least that's what her mother had always tried to tell her. The young tomboy couldn't really believe that at the time. She thought it was one of those scary stories that parents make up so that their children don't run away too far.

Nevertheless, her little adventure, which could well have ended fatally, had definitely cured her of her recklessness. Better than any warning from her mother could have done. It had been sheer luck that the young girl had eventually found her way out, remembering that trees could be used to find the right sky direction. One of the things she had learned from the rangers.

Nature in and around the forest had changed more and more over the years. Some of the animals were vicious and a pack of wolves was no match for a single person. It had been pure luck then that Nola had not stumbled into one or more of these animals. Probably the beasts would have laughed at her if she had waved her dagger frantically in front of their noses. It was undoubtedly a beautiful weapon but not really meant for life and death combat with a pack of wild animals. It had been a gift from her mother. Maera claimed that her father had it made especially for his daughter. Unfortunately, he had not been able to give it to Nola himself. It was a delicate piece of elvish design with a fine engraving on the shaft in elvish script.

Nola couldn't read it, and her mother claimed she couldn't decipher it exactly either. She said that it was probably written in one of the old elvish languages that were no longer used today, and that only the Eldar still mastered it.

Why her father had used this language, of all languages, was a mystery to Nola. Like everything else about her father. She had never met him, as he had died before she was born, and her mother never spoke much about him. All the young woman knew was that he had been a reasonably wealthy merchant named Maethor.

Whenever Nola dared to ask for more details, the older woman's expression had darkened. She said it pained her too much to talk about it. So Nola mostly let it go. Certainly her mother had loved him very much, so it was not surprising that his loss pained her so much. It was not without reason that Maera had never married another man. She had always preferred to stay alone with Nola.

A rustling nearby finally caught the daydreamer's attention and snapped her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and let her gaze wander searchingly through the dense rows of trees. Despite all the stories, she still hoped to see an Elf in the flesh someday, no matter how unlikely that was. Especially so far on the outer edge of the forest. But Nola was disappointed this time as well. A branch cracked, and when her eyes discovered the causer of the sound, it was neither human nor elf. With his attentive gaze directed in her direction and his nose stretched into the wind, a deer stood in the undergrowth. Not an ordinary one, though. Nola had never seen such a beautiful animal before. It was tall, had dark, clever eyes and magnificent antlers. But the most striking thing about it was probably the pure white color of its fur.

The young woman's jaw dropped. No one in the village would believe her. In awe, she barely dared to breathe so as not to frighten the majestic animal, which seemed to be very aware of her presence. At least it did not turn its eyes away from her for what felt like an eternity. Gradually, she got the feeling that the deer was looking right into her, but before her imagination could run away with her, she heard a grunting snort nearby. Followed by a chuckling laugh.

The deer raised its head and listened for a moment, then leapt away through the undergrowth with elegant strides. Half disappointed, half annoyed, Nola looked around for the source of the disturbance, but could discover no one. Nevertheless, the silence was over. From everywhere she was now aware of crackling and popping sounds, choppy words pierced the forest, which now began to blur around her.

Seized by a sudden dizziness and throbbing pain behind her temples, Nola clung to the now swaying tree. The ground began to shake and tremble. She felt nauseous and tried to leave the dangerously swaying branches and return to safe ground, but suddenly they simply disappeared and she fell to the ground with a silent scream.

* * *

A low moan escaped from her raw throat. Nola was terribly thirsty, her lungs were burning and her head ached as well as her left leg. Something heavy pressed her unyieldingly to the ground and prevented her from making any major movements. Her eyelids were heavy as if something was pressing them down. In any case, she was unable to open her eyes. The young woman's hearing, on the other hand, worked perfectly. Nearby she heard voices. Most of them distorted and interspersed with incomprehensible grunting sounds. But very close to her, a deep, melodic voice rang out in a language she neither understood nor could directly place. Nola had heard several foreign languages in her life and could often at least roughly estimate where the person who spoke them came from, but this language, more like a singsong, she was unable to classify.

_"This one is still alive.",_ said the tall black-haired elf, whose expressionless gaze rested on the girl lying on the ground. The beam, that had nearly crushed her when it had fallen from the roof, had half buried her. The wood was blackened in places, but the embers seemed extinguished. Her face was smeared with soot and blood, as was the tangled, partly glued hair that lay like a veil around her head. _"Not for long.",_ came the sneering sounding reply in the same language. It was also a man who spoke, but his voice had a slightly lighter timbre.

_"Are you going to kill her?",_ asked the first again. _"What for? These people are so fragile. Nature will take care of that on its own.",_ came the almost amused-sounding reply. _"After all, I told her that a death by one of my arrows would have been a more merciful one."_ Thalion glanced again at the girl, who lay apparently unconscious. But he knew better. His gray eyes had noticed the twitch that went through her as she slowly awoke and tried to stir. His keen hearing had heard her moan, as well as the quickening of her heartbeat as she began to perceive her surroundings again. The light of life was still strong in her.

Orodreth, on the other hand, seemed to notice nothing of the sort. At least he did not even glance at the girl. For him, she was already dead. Perhaps it was a mistake to let her live. But Thalion was not in the position to question the other's decision. Besides, even if he would not be believed, if he would say this aloud, he was not at all comfortable taking a life without reason. _"We should leave gradually. Should the Elven King learn of this, our plan might fail even before it has begun,"_ he dared to utter nonetheless, earning him a venomous look from the brown eyes of Orodreth.

_"Thranduil is only interested in one thing and that is himself. What happens outside his borders is as indifferent to him as the human race as such. Even if he finds out about the raids, he won't do anything about it.",_ came coolly from the brown-haired elf, who now turned away jerkily.

"Hey you Orc Maggots! See that you collect anything of value so we can get out of here before daylight sees your ugly mugs!" he shouted, now switching to the common language that even Nola understood all too well.

Thalion had lowered his eyes and was getting ready to follow his master, who was going to make them get a move on. Even though Orodreth had just vehemently claimed that Thranduil would not be a serious problem for their venture, it was not wise to be discovered prematurely. Their master would certainly not be happy if his plans were exposed even before they bore their first fruits, and neither of them seriously wanted to incur his wrath.

Once again he looked at the girl lying on the ground. Not far from her lay a dagger, clearly forged by Elven hands. He bent down, picked it up and looked at it briefly. The inscription on the shaft of the small weapon was in his language. The meaning made him frown. Was this the girl's name? If so, it was a sad irony that she would probably have no hope now. Not after what had happened that night. Thalion took a quick glance outside before placing the dagger back beside the girl. Orodreth was nowhere to be seen, and the orcs paid no attention to the second elf, who didn't have much to say anyway. The dagger would not be a great loss for the master, but it would at least give the girl the chance to end her suffering prematurely herself, should that be her wish. With a smooth movement he rose and hurried out of the stable to join Orodreth's side again. The sooner they left this place, the better.

Nola, meanwhile, had tried to breathe as shallowly as possible and not let on that she had awakened. Her heart was beating up to her throat and panic threatened to overwhelm her as all the memories came flooding back to her one by one. The clearer her mind became, the more clearly she saw the images of the last hour before her. She had not been in the forest. She had been running for her life. The encounter with the white stag had been nothing more than a dream. A beautiful, if very strange dream. But in reality there was nothing beautiful anymore. Her mother was dead and the fact that an elf had caused it only made it worse. An elf, of all things? Elves were the heroes of her childhood. They were supposed to be pure, beautiful and good and not murderers. Something was very wrong here. There had been two of them among all these beasts, and yet none of the creatures had attacked them. Therefore, the elves had to be in cahoots with the orcs, but how was that possible? Orcs and elves were declared mortal enemies. They did not work together, they killed each other whenever they met.

While the exhausted young woman's thoughts were racing, she listened to the melodic voices of the two men who were still near her. It had to be the two elves, for the orcs usually communicated in choppy sounds and fragments of every language they had ever picked up. The complete opposite of the melodic language the two strangers spoke. By now, Nola had a pretty firm idea of what language the two were using. It had to be Sindarin.

And with that it was clear why the young woman hardly understood a word. It had never been necessary for her to learn the elven language, since she would probably never meet an elf in the flesh anyway. Nevertheless, she had begged her mother from time to time to teach her at least a few words. Around here, few people were educated enough to read and write, let alone learn the high language of the fair folk. Her mother was the only one far and wide who knew it, but she had not really been willing to teach Nola. 'Why waste your time on something so unnecessary?", Maera had always asked her. 'Better use it for useful things. The elves are retreating more and more, soon they will be gone completely. Who will you talk to then in their language?' That was how their discussions had always ended.

But despite her lack of language skills, she understood one thing very well: they were talking about the Elvenking. Thranduil, that was his name. Everyone who lived in the surroundings of Mirkwood knew that. And probably his name was also known far beyond the borders, for he was one of the Eldar. One of those elves who were born in the first age. An ancient being.

So it was he who had ordered this raid? But why? Had all her mother's warnings been justified after all? Was the king of the Woodland Realm really that cruel? It had to be, otherwise the two elves would hardly mention him explicitly, would they? Nola became quite giddy at the thought that perhaps she had angered the Elven king so much with her regular excursions into the forest that he ordered this attack. But what did the orcs have to do with this? Wasn't it always said that the Woodland King fought the dark creatures and kept them away from his borders? Now it seemed as if he had allied himself with them.

Nola's mental carousel came to an abrupt halt when one of the elves suddenly switched to the common tongue and shouted orders at the orcs before apparently walking away.

No matter how far-fetched it was, this was proof. The orcs were under the command of these two elves. And they in turn were under the command of the Elvenking. On whose orders should they be here otherwise? A world was collapsing in Nola. All this was too much. The heroes of her childhood turned out to be cruel murderers in league with the enemy. And they had killed her mother. Her strong, smart mother. What should she do without her? Tears gathered under her closed lids. But Nola struggled to keep her composure, sensing that someone was still near her. And indeed, shortly after, the young woman lying on the floor noticed someone leaning over her. A scraping sound rang out, obviously something was being picked up from the floor. Nola didn't dare open her eyes even a crack for fear of giving herself away. If they continued to think she was dead, she might have a tiny chance of escaping. If they discovered she was still alive, they would surely make short work of her.

Nola could not have known that the elf crouching next to her knew she was alive and could have guessed that she was tensely following everything that was happening around her.

Something clattered to the floor next to her head and she involuntarily winced barely noticeably. Then the warm presence next to her moved away and soft footsteps announced that the second elf had also left the stable. Nola dared to lift her eyelids a tiny bit and look at the stable door. It was the black-haired elf she had seen standing next to her mother's murderer, who was now walking away with long strides, as if he were in a hurry to leave this place. When he was out of sight, the exhausted young woman turned her head a little to the right. There where the clattering sound had just come from. She discovered her dagger lying between her and her mother's corpse. Again tears welled up in her eyes, which she swallowed with difficulty. She had to be strong now. If she was going to survive this, the grief would have to wait until she was safe.

For the moment, Nola closed her eyes again, trying to suppress the sobs rising in her despite all her good intentions by taking a deep breath. Something she immediately regretted, because the smoke still in the air irritated her lungs and only with difficulty could she suppress a cough. She had to keep quiet until the beasts were gone. Only then could she try to free herself from her predicament. So Nola lay there for quite a while with her eyes closed, tensely listening for any sound. Hours passed until the laughing, roaring pack of orcs had apparently finally carried out the elf's order and prepared to leave. Then stamping steps moved away, a neighing sounded. Horse hooves were audible and moved away. And finally it became silent, dead silent. But even then, Nola did not dare to move for a long time. She remained in her tense rigidity until pain and exhaustion dragged her again into the blackness of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to chapter number 2 :) I'm glad you've found your way here. This chapter should bring a bit of clarity to the story. Or even more confusion, depending on your point of view. ;)
> 
> I’d like to know, if you are interested in the translation/meaning of the names in this story? If so, I would attach them in the End Notes in the next chapter.
> 
> And a little note for better understanding: Dialogues in _italics_ mean that a foreign language is spoken, that Nola doesn't understand. In this case Sindarin. :)
> 
> Dialogues enclosed in `...` indicate conversations in the past or in memories.
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you. See you in the next chapter.
> 
> Tai


End file.
